Lost
Full of INFORMATION and PLANS and DIRECTION after a talk with Feint, Hot Rod sets off to do his part -- which, in this case, involves updating Feint's other half. With directions from her, he has a fair idea of where Blurr could be, but given that it is /Blurr/, there is no guarantee that where Blurr was one second ago will be even the same timezone where he is by the time Hot Rod gets there. Still: he goes Blurr hunting. How hard can it be to track a celebrity of Blurr's degree? Oh, Hot Rod. Always full of ideas, isn't he? But at least he wants to help. Feint might have told him that Ibex would be the first place to look, so he's probably headed there, but he needn't have, because Blurr is here, in Nyon, actually. What is he doing here? Well, that's a good question. He seems to be wandering aimlessly about. But there is certainly no mistaking that streamlined frame... Blast Off is here as well. The shuttleformer is a fugitive, on the run from the law. Largely for crimes he did NOT commit... but there are one or two he is /quite/ guilty of. Slag it all, this seems so familiar, too. At the moment, he has no idea Blurr is anywhere nearby, nor anyone else. He is simply trying to blend in with the crowd as he walks down a street. Well. That was certainly an efficient search. "Wow, I'm good," Hot Rod actually says out loud to himself. He throws his hands up to flag Blurr down, like he is hard to spot or something, being a modest simple frame with a spoiler that looks like it has ambitious to be wings and paint that just blends right in, what with the brilliant red and golden flames. He's so easy to overlook. Blast Off only /wishes/ he could blend in so readily. Blurr looks...very lost. Though not quite frightened or uneasy. He remembers who he is, at least, though he can't seem to recall where any of his hab suites are. Which is why he's wandering around in Nyon. It's as if his memories were a neat stack of file folders, and someone has taken that stack and strewn it all over the room, crumping them up and even tearing some of them apart. One thing he does remember, though. That guy, with the obnoxious flames, with bright red and yellow paint. What was his name? Oh, yeah. Hot Rod. Not a very forgettable name. And he seems to be trying to flag the speedster down, now. Nearly instantly, the racer is in front of Hot Rod. In fact if he hadn't been paying attention he might have walked right into him. Blast Off is doing a fine job of blending in, at least, thus far. Well better than Hot Rod, anyway. Blast Off stops as not Blurr, but HOT ROD catches his optic. Because...seriously Hot Rod? You call that Camouflage??? No, see, you need the subtle, majestic browns and purples and grays of a sniper. No flashy yellow attention-seeking flames. Ple-ase. And all coated and finished with only the /finest/ of materials. Well, they *were* the finest of materials until the haughty high caste fell down on his luck recently (again with that whole *Wanted Fugitive* deal. All a misunderstanding, I assure you. He spies Hot Rod- and there is Blurr. Blast Off blinks. He'd just encountered the speedster not long ago, rummaging through what remained of his habsuite. There was a confrontation.. shooting, then... Blurr was a confusing, blubbering mess. Blast Off actually almost took pity, and left him alone there- only for Blurr to be dragged away by his handlers. And now... now what? The shuttleformer's violet optics narrow as he watches the other two. For now, he stands there and simply tries to see what's going on. The thing about Nyon -- the thing about /Hot Rod/ and Nyon -- is that he doesn't have to blend in. He doesn't need camouflage. It's home. He might still look out of place, but to the people here, he's familiar. He doesn't get nearly as much attention from the townies as he does from outsiders like Blurr and Blast Off. People here are used to (and some no doubt sick of) him. "Blurr!" Hot Rod greets him with delight and friendly familiarity, but there's a note of concern beneath that's a little (a lot) unusual for him. That Blast Off hangs back spares him a similarly unsubtle greeting. For the moment. He actually takes a step back, but it has less to do with nearly running into Blurr and more to do with wanting to get a good look at him. "Feint said you were doing okay except for your head, but how're you feeling?" Physically, Blurr looks all right. There are some markings on his body where he was shot by Blast Off before, but he's recovered from that for the most part. The opposite can be said of his mind, however. To say he is a psychological mess would be putting it slightly. But since when did Hot Rod know Feint? Blurr's optics brighten with a hopeful look. Well, maybe if he knows Feint, he knows where Blurr lives? That's probably why he looks so happy to see Hot Rod. He...starts making odd gestures, now. Is he asking for Hot Rod's hailing frequency? Blast Off simply continues to watch for now, shuffling a little bit closer while *trying* to look inconspicuous. Of course, "inconspicuous" and "shuttles" aren't often associated with each other, but as a sniper he can sometimes manage surprisingly well. He's got a long history of trying, at least. Again, one reason he's all muted shades of brown and purple. Too bad for Blast Off's camo that Blurr is doing all of those odd gestures, which actually have the initial effect of redirecting Hot Rod's attention away from him. He turns to study their surroundings, trying to figure out what Blurr is gesturing /to/. So he gives the street a long, hard look. On first pass, he glances past Blast Off. "No, she's gone, what? Are you being ... followed?" This is plausible enough that he actually /does/ pass over his contact information so that it'll take more effort for them to be overheard. While he is in the middle of this, he looks back at Blast Off. Recognition is belated, but when it comes, he visibly startles. "You!" Blurr is a bit frustrated at first, because Hot Rod -doesn't get it-. Well that probably happens a lot, anyway. But maybe he hasn't been around Hot Rod enough to be used to it. He keeps shaking his head, no, he doesn't mean Feint, and he doesn't mean he's being follow--oh, there it is. And then Blast Off is spotted. Optics widening, the racer darts behind Hot Rod. When the transmission come, though, they are text transmissions only. << Oh no, he's the one who shot me! >> is sent to Hot Rod only. Blast Off is standing there watching, hoping he blends in, when... SUDDENLY SPOTTED. The shuttleformer blinks and then freezes up a moment before glancing around him as if hoping Hot Rod's actually addressing someone else. Unfortunately, no... seems to be him. Slaaag. Head turning sharply back around he finally answers with a startled word of his own, "What?" When Blurr suddenly darts behind Hot Rod... Oh slag. Again. The shuttle begins getting an uneasy feeling here.... what does Blurr remember, if anything? "He /what/?" While Hot Rod may have been surprised to see Blast Off, he was otherwise content to reserve judgment. Just because the Autobots were looking for Blast Off doesn't mean he's actually done anything /wrong/, right? What with Prowl being ... /Prowl/, Hot Rod was all set to give Blast Off the benefit of the doubt. Then Blurr does that, says that, and Hot Rod's expression and stance markedly change. Hot Rod scowls at Blast Off and curls his fingers to form fists. He looks like he's gearing up to a fight. "What's the big idea?" But for his outburst, he answers Blurr in the same fashion in quick databurst: << Feint's on her way to Kaon to get help for you from Senator Shockwave. She said your memory was still kind of messed up. >> Blurr keeps cowering behind Hot Rod. Just admit it, Hot Rod. You're enjoying being the hero. That's the only reason you're judging Blast Off...well and of course because he shot the racer. Obviously because Blurr himself just said so, even though it's clear from what Feint had said that his mind isn't quite all there. << Help from Shockwave? Who's Shockwave? Why would someone in Kaon help me? .... Do you know where I live? >> As Hot Rod scowls and balls his fists, Blast Off looks wary now. He takes a step backwards and glances down the street as if accessing a good spot to flee, if required. Though *running* kind of draws attention, too, and he'd rather not make a scene. The shuttleformer looks back to Hot Rod, studying both him and Blurr carefully. "...What do you mean?" There is nothing to admit when there is never a thought of denying: Hot Rod is clearly, obviously, COMPLETELY enjoying this. ~Hero~. "Did you shoot him?" he demands of Blast Off. This 'ask first, shoot later' is for the birds. What a terrible idea. He is clearly doing things backward. It's the distraction of keeping up a second line of communication with Blurr: << Shockwave's a senator. He'd been hiding fugitives and dissidents at his Academy before it burnt down, which means he was obviously doing something right. I bet there's a seriously creepy fan or ten on the datanet who know where you live. >> NOT THAT HE IS ONE. << Hiding fugitives? But aren't fugitives criminals? >> << You aren't a fan of me? >> << I know you, I know I met you before. >> << You talked to Feint. >> Blurr seems convinced that Hot Rod must know where he lives. << Please make him go away...I think he wants to shoot me again. >> Blast Off blinks at Hot Rod. Of course, the simple answer is...yes. But it *wasn't* simple. Blurr shot him *first* after all. Not that Blast Off thinks Hot Rod will necessarily be able to appreciate the finer nuances of that situation. He continues to look wary, trying to figure out the thing to say. As Blurr acts erratically, Blast Off suddenly straightens up and points a finger at the racer. "Where did you get /that/ idea? Don't tell me HE said that?" << I'm not a creepy fan! >> /This/ is what Hot Rod thinks it is most important to address first. << I'm a cool fan. >> Okay, guys. He's so cool. Just making sure everyone knows. << Can't be criminals if the law is bad, >> Hot Rod says with full, 100% conviction. << I did. I talked to Feint. We'll make sure you're okay. >> Shifting slightly at the point of Blast Off's finger, Hot Rod growls a low warning: "Look, man, you better back off. You try blowing up Nyon like you did that clinic--" Because clearly Blast Off is guilty if he shot Blurr, right? "--and you and me are going to have some problems." << Why would the law be bad? >> << I'm fine. >> << So you really don't know where I live? >> Blurr peers over Hot Rod's shoulder to see if Blast Off is gone, but cringes away when he sees that the Combaticon is still there. Blast Off glares at Hot Rod. He ought to simply walk away, but he *really* doesn't want to have "trying to kill Blurr" added to his list of crimes. That's *just* what he needs... NOT. He'd become Public Enemy Number One if people thought he'd hunted down and shot the "poor innocent" celebrity... though *he* knows better. Blurr shot first... and Blast Off showed almost uncharacteristic mercy by the end- coupled with a pragmatic desire to just get out of there. At the mention of the clinic though, the shuttleformer puffs up with indignation. "I did NOT blow up the clinic! I..." He almost says *was trying to *help* Rung*, but perhaps it would be better not to even admit that he was there. His usually quite refined voice calms a little bit, though it's still tense. "I...I have absolutely NO reason or interest in blowing up a /clinic/!" He nearly rolls his optics. "/Or/ Nyon." He glowers at the flame-painted mech. "Do you *really* believe every line the government feeds you?" << Because the people making the laws are bad. >> Toeing the creepy / cool line, Hot Rod promises, << I know where we can find out. >> He studies Blast Off, ending with a sharp laugh: "Nah. I make a point of doubting them. But I notice you never denied shooting Blurr, so why don't you just walk away, and I won't be telling the black and whites where I saw you? They're asking anyone who's been seen with you, you know." << Why would they be bad? >> Blurr just won't stop with the questions. << Oh good, let's go now then. Let's get away from him. >> He grabs Hot Rod's arm and starts trying to pull him away, but he isn't exactly that strong. Blast Off shifts uncomfortably, glancing off as Hot Rod calls him out on not actually *denying* shooting Blurr... and threatens bringing information to the authorities. For the first time, his trigger finger itches, but he's not going to start shooting, as much as he might like that idea right about now. He ponders for a moment, still determined to try putting out this fire before it fans out of control. "Speaking of black and white, you act as if everything *is*... and it is NOT. You should know that anything I say can and will probably be used against me. All I *will* say is that I am NOT his enemy." He points to Blurr again. "Nor am I yours, unless you're just *looking* for a fight and I just so happened to get in your way..." Hot Rod steps back, keeping between Blurr and Blast Off. If /he/ won't go, then they will. He steps backward in the direction of Blurr's tug with a simple, << Okay, >> and << We'll talk about it later, >> that suggests more patience than he'd usually show. "I'm not acting like anything's black and white. Look around, mech. I get gray. I'm /warning/ you to be /careful/, because I don't trust them much more than I trust you." That said, he doesn't seem to be looking for a fight -- especially not when a fight might give Blast Off another shot at Blurr. He is STICKING TO THAT LINE. It's not retreat: it's strategy. << Thanks, Hot Rod. I really appreciate it. >> Blurr replies, and continues pulling him away. Blast Off continues to glare at Hot Rod as the other mech begins backing away. The aloof shuttleformer won't follow them; he simply watches them leaving. Primus, is he the only civilized, intelligent mech around here? Probably. He usually is, after all. He offers parting words: "...I'm *always* careful." But maybe not careful enough, he thinks to himself. "Just remember, don't believe everything you hear." He points to Blurr. "Including from *him*."